An Angel in Hell
by TheWhoLockedSupernaturalist
Summary: When Sherlock jumps, he is sent to hell. There he meets someone, another unfortunate soul. Dean Winchester. T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock Holmes looked at the ground, looked at his fate. He looked back at Moriarty, who was laying on the ground, dead, a hole through his head. Sherlock was on the phone with John, but he wasn't conscious of what he was saying, just that it was being said and that it was condemning him. He finally came to, and found the left side of his face wet. A single tear had fallen,had landed on his coat. Sherlock looked down, his vision blurring, at his best friend. He looked at him, at said goodbye. Then he threw the phone behind him, and toppled off the edge.

* * *

Sherlock was thinking as he fell, thinking of the pain he would feel, of the pain John would feel. He was about o lose his best friend. Sherlock didn't have a plan to save himself. He only had one thing, and that was his determination that his friends should live. He looked at the ground rushing towards him, and thought one last thing, then it all went black.

* * *

Sherlock woke up. This wasn't right. He should be dead. He'd fallen off the top of a building. Then he noticed his surroundings. He was chained up, his arms and legs stretched out. He heard a voice nearby. What was the voice saying? He listened closer, and it came in loud and clear: "Somebody help me! Sam?"

**A/N: I will leave the first chapter on a cliffhanger. These are two of my favorite shows, and I just had the idea for this crossover, though it's probably already been done. Enjoy! I also have a tumblr, thewholockedsupernaturalist. If you have a tumblr, feel free to follow me!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I have had such a great response to this story. It's crazy. Seriously, it's less than three hundred words. Thanks, though, to all my readers. Time is all weird in this chapter, but I figured hell was weird so what the hell. Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever, own the gorgeous Jensen Ackles or the scrumptious Benedict Cumberbatch- I mean, Sherlock or Supernatural.**

**WARNING: THE END OF THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS BAD LANGUAGE. IF YOU WANT TO SKIP IT, FEEL FREE.**

Over the next few months, Sherlock got to know the voice. Its name was Dean Winchester. He was a "hunter", american, and apparently knew where they were. It was hell. Literally. Demons came and tortured them every single day, relentlessly. No matter what, they were always perfect the next day, ready to be tortured again. The only way Sherlock got through it was to think of John, how he would react. Dean said he thought of his brother, Sam, and his car. Hey, he was an american.

Sherlock would say he became soft in hell, but Dean would say that Sherlock had become more resilient. At the beginning of his stay, Sherlock was close to giving in at the end of every day, but he wouldn't talk to Dean at all. After 20 years, Sherlock could resist the demons' questions, but he would also talk to Dean every single day. They were used to each other, knew each other's screams, the life story of the other. In those years, Dean and Sherlock became like brothers. They were both humans who would not give in.

Eventually, after 26 years, they each found out why the other was there. It was at night, well, night on Earth, while their wounds were healing. Dean was the one to break the subject. "So, Sherly, why are you here?" Sherlock grimaced. After all this time, Dean still called him that stupid name. "My guess? I think because I was not the best person in life, and I committed suicide. What about you?" Dean paused. "Wait, you, commit suicide? Can I ask why?" Sherlock sighed. "You can ask." Dean grinned. "OK then, I'm asking." Sherlock rolled his eyes. Some people would always be morons. "I jumped off the top of a hospital to save my friends. It was after Moriarty died." Dean had heard about Moriarty. "Man,that guy was a dick." Oh so much tact there. "Yes, he was a...dick...I suppose. He shot himself in the head, so I had to jump, otherwise my friends would have died, shot by his snipers." Dean snorted. "Wait, you had friends? Impressive." Sherlock sighed again. "Now, why are you here?"

Dean Winchester had no qualms telling Sherlock the whole story. He knew everything else about Dean, had deduced part of it. "Well, long story short, I'm here because my brother got stabbed in the back, so I had to save him. I made a deal with the crossroads demon that I had a year before I got sent to hell. Man, I would kill for some burgers."

* * *

Four years later, Dean was torturing souls. He had screamed at the demon who was torturing him, had said yes sarcastically, but demons were demons, and they didn't care about sarcasm. So now he tortured souls. He had been forced to torture Sherlock once, but he "hadn't been harsh enough", so he never did it again. He did tell Sherlock something, however. He said, "Don't you ever say yes. I will come back here and kill you myself if you do. This isn't fun, and you shouldn't have to suffer through it." So at least he hadn't lost his humanity.

After forty years of being tortured, ten of them alone, Sherlock was ready to give up. The demons had sent Dean his way again, and he was doing the best he could to remember Sherlock, but it was hard. The day was almost over when there was a blinding flash of light. The demons all covered their eyes, shrieking. The light came towards Sherlock and Dean, and it stopped. It spoke, sounding like iron nails dragging across a blackboard. "Dean Winchester. You have been here too long," it said. "Damn straight. Who they hell are you, you son of a bitch?" The light continued. "That does not matter. I am here to get you out of here. Step into the light." Dean was no idiot, but this thing made the demons cower in fear. He stepped towards it, then looked back at Sherlock. "Hell no. Not without Sherlock." The light seemed to startle. "Sherlock Holmes? You should not be here either. Go with Dean." Sherlock found he could move. The chains, the ever-present chains, were gone. He looked at Dean, then smiled and spoke like his friend. "Let's get out of here. This place sucks ass." The light flared as they stepped into it, and suddenly it was all around them, going through them.

**A/N: That's it for now! Sorry for the language, I wanted to make it seem authentic. Also, Sherlock is a little OOC at the end. Anyways, please review, and in the meantime, I'll write a new chapter! Until next we meet!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So sorry for the longish wait. I do have a good reason though. I finally finished season 5 of Supernatural! But no spoilers, please! Disclaimer: I don't even have a job, what makes you think I could own two shows?**

Sherlock and Dean heard it at the same time; the voice again. It spoke, though it sounded duller this time. "Welcome to London. You are meant to be here. You need to be here." Dean snorted. "London? Why London? Couldn't we go somewhere normal like, oh I don't know, America!?" He then glanced at Sherlock, who seemed completely unfazed. Slowly it dawned on him and he remembered something about the way Sherlock talked. It was almost like he had an accent... A British accent... "Oh my god, you lived here? In London?" Sherlock looked at Dean. "Glad to see you finally catching on, Dean. Only took you forty years." The voice sounded again, and Sherlock and Dean covered their ears. "Work together. You will find something that suits both of your talents soon enough. Goodbye, Dean Winchester, Sherlock Holmes." There was a faint sound, like wings, and the light was gone.

Sherlock and Dean were in a cemetery, near a black headstone. Sherlock stiffened, deducing quickly. It wasn't hard. All you had to do was put together the angel's clues -of course it was an angel, what else could scare demons?- and you arrived to the conclusion. Just to check, though he knew he was right, Sherlock walked around to the other side of the grave. There were two words chiseled into the black stone, nothing more. Two words that were impossible, considering the man looking at them. Two little words that made up a name. Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

Dean followed Sherlock, who had suddenly grown tense. He looked where Sherlock was looking, saw what Sherlock saw. "Wait, are you kidding? We're at your freaking grave? " He twitched his eyebrows upwards. "Do we need to get salt and a lighter?" Dean chuckled at his own joke, but Sherlock said nothing. In fact, all he did was stand there, looking slightly disoriented. Any other man would have an expression of complete and utter shock and disbelief on their face. They would be stunned. Not so with Sherlock. It was actually kinda unnerving, or at least Dean thought so. A man looking at his own grave, and he only looked slightly disoriented.

The man in question finally looked away from the black, and towards the street. He saw a taxi drive closer, saw it stop, watched a person get out. Upon closer inspection, it was a short, blond man. Sherlock realized who it was. "Quick, Dean, over there, behind the trees. Come on, quickly!" Dean walked over grudgingly. "OK, OK, sheesh. What the hell, man?" Sherlock could only point at the man walking closer. Dean didn't realize who it was, so he did some finger gestures of his own. Sherlock sighed, exasperated. "It-it's John..." He trailed off, and Dean remembered what Sherlock had told him. 'I jumped...to save my friends...' Apparently this was one of Sherlock's friends, though Dean was hard put to know a name, seeing as he had never been told any. "OK, John. Was he one of dudes Morifarty wanted to shoot?" Sherlock smiled sadly at Dean's nickname for his nemesis. "Yes, that is John. Uh, John Watson. My, uh, flatmate. He, um. He was the one I, uh. I talked to before... Um, well, before I fell." Sherlock had more emotion in his eyes than Dean thought he was capable of. "You mean before you jumped." Always the comforter, that was Dean. Sherlock flinched. "What an apt description. Um, well, he was my partner in crime. Literally. The last thing I did before I got to the hospital was kidnap him and run away from about twenty of London's finest. Well, I say finest... Finest idiots." Dean almost chuckled, but he then remembered that the hushed voices and hiding were for a reason.

For a while, the two sat in silence and watched John.

* * *

John wasn't feeling his best. It had been four months since that terrible day, but it felt like four years. Four long months of flat-hunting, fishing for pity dates, and mostly sitting around Baker Street in Sherlock's chair. It was painful at first, but John had taken to drinking every other night. He could see why Harry liked alcohol so much. It dulled the pain from gunshots all over his body to a much better sharp knife in his gut. He looked up as he got closer to Sherlock's grave, and he thought he saw someone in the trees near the black slab. A specific someone... But he was dead. Dead and gone. Just a cold corpse in the ground with a bashed-in head.

**A/N: Well that was somewhat depressing to write. To be honest, I hadn't been planning on including John at all, but he demanded to be a part of this story. Maybe next time will bring a bit more Supernatural...**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I literally have no excuses…. I am so so so sorry. Disclaimer: If I owned either of these shows, I would have to be able to crank out a new chapter each week.**

Sherlock looked away as John walked away. Dean was fairly sure he was crying, but of course he would never admit to that. Dean waited patiently, only for about 2.8 seconds though. Sherlock Holmes had learned long ago that caring was not an advantage. All lives end. All hearts are broken. Why break more than you have to? He had learned this long ago, but he hadn't done a good job of listening to it. Lives may end, hearts may break, but what's the point of living if you live so cautiously that you didn't live at all?

* * *

They left the cemetery fairly quickly after that, Sherlock eager to get away from his own marble slab. They walked into the very heart of London, and no one noticed. There was a story bigger than the "suicide of fake genius". They found out what soon enough- by way of a newspaper abandoned in the street:

MURDER CASES SOLVED: MAN ARRESTED, CLAIMS GHOSTS ARE REAL

was the headline. There was a picture of the arrested man below the heading, as well as the getaway car that was still missing. Dean took one look at the car and went pale. "No… Sammy.." Sherlock took the newspaper and looked at it. There was a man, a veritable sasquatch. And the car… A 1967 Chevy Impala, black. American license plate: CNK 80Q3. He remembered Dean talking about his car "Baby" in hell- 'She's a classic. I convinced my dad to get her forever ago.' With nothing else to talk about, Sherlock had asked him what kind of car it was. He'd sighed and responded. 'A Chevy Impala. 1967, black.'

So it was Dean's car, and most likely his brother. Why was an American in London? What was he doing here on murder charges? Sherlock had so many unanswered questions, but none of them could be answered right now.

* * *

Dean's POV

Dean looked at the newspaper, then back at Sherlock. Obviously the "consulting detective" was trying to see why Sammy was in London. Dean had no clue, so it couldn't be "deduced" from him. Oh well. He wondered if the Brits had pie.

* * *

Dean convinced Sherlock to go to a restaurant, preferably one with pie. Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes, used to the weird American ways that Dean had. Of course they had pie! Why wouldn't they? Apparently Dean thought that Sherlock had never had pie, and convinced him to have a bite. It wasn't hard to admit that after forty years in hell (which admittedly was only 4 months in the land of the living) Sherlock was starving. He ordered a BLT sandwich and ate it like he had never eaten in his life. Dean watched him as he ate his burger, a greasy thing with bacon and cheese on it that looked like someone had dipped it in oil. It was fantabulous. The same could be said for the chocolate milkshake that was slightly uncommon for Dean, and downright preposterous for Sherlock. But they both had one. Why not?

They got some weird looks from passersby, no doubt recalling the events and headlines of four months ago. There was still a tabloid following the series of events that had led to the "Suicide of the Fake Genius". Dean caught on quickly and convinced Sherlock to go to a clothes store, where Sherlock got a zip-up hoodie and jeans. Dean kept his jacket and his jeans. That included all the fake IDs, but they didn't have any for Sherlock. Remarkable that they had survived hell at all.

After that, they went to prepare to research why Sam Winchester was in jail, and why his arrester was Greg Lestrade. It seemed like too much of a coincidence to Dean, and Sherlock didn't believe in coincidences. Like how it wasn't a coincidence that the angel had put them in London, exactly where and when Dean's brother was. And how it wasn't a coincidence that Dean had been told to torture Sherlock when the angel arrived. For some reason, it all felt like one big setup. And that made Sherlock uneasy.

Dean had an idea of where Sammy would hide Baby, and he didn't share it with Sherlock (though he could probably deduce it in about ten seconds). First though, he agreed that they should have some guns. They went to an old friend of Sherlock's, part of his homeless network, which was still going. The homeless network graffitied at least 10 buildings a night, saying things like, "I believe in Sherlock Holmes" and "Moriarty is real". They didn't believe that Moriarty had in fact died when Sherlock had. Anyways, the man, named Flea, for interesting reasons, knew how to keep a secret. He believed that it was Sherlock, so he helped them out. He took them to a black market gun seller, who gave both Dean and Sherlock a hand pistol. Dean, being the ever-wary soul that he was, also bought a knife. It was only 5 inches long, but it could still do damage if it needed to.

With their new defense, Sherlock and Dean headed back onto the streets, ready to start interrogating poor homeless people for intel about Sam's doings.

**A/N: So, this is so, so late, and for that I am extremely sorry. I hope that this makes up for it in some way. I'll try to post again soon. **


End file.
